


Nothing Gets By a Stilinski AKA Stiles Had to Get His Awesome From Somewhere

by GoddessofBirth



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Family Bonding, Humor, M/M, Other, Sheriff Stilinski is Awesome, and crafty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-06
Updated: 2012-05-11
Packaged: 2017-11-04 22:54:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/399101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoddessofBirth/pseuds/GoddessofBirth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Which Sheriff Stilinski almost gives Stiles a heart attack</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this photoset: http://crusingthroughreality.tumblr.com/post/22458254451/i-could-totally-see-sheriff-stilinski-doing-this

Stiles shoveled another spoonful of baked potato into his mouth as, across the table, his dad flipped through files and stabbed a piece of steak with his fork. It was Friday, the one day of the week he let his dad get away with eating crap without bitching. Mainly it was because he felt guilty that he was home even less than he used to be, busy with Scott and stupid Jackson and sort-of-werewolf-but-sort-of-not Lydia, not to mention the sourest sourwolf of them all. So the one night a week he and his dad were actually home for dinner at the same time, he just smiled and let the fat drip through his dad's arteries.

 

Arteries...he had read something earlier in science class that made him think that there might be a way to dose the werewolves that would make their blood less susceptible to things like silver or freaking crazy Argent bullets – he still wasn't over the way Derek had looked with black shooting up his veins and oozing out his arm and he'd really rather not repeat the experience. He'd tell Derek about it tonight, maybe see if Lydia had some other ideas –

 

His dad interrupted his thought process just as it started to veer toward the beady eyed glare Victoria Argent had given him as he passed her in the grocery store yesterday.

 

'So, I actually have this Sunday off.'

 

'Awesome,' Stiles said, and he meant it. His dad worked too much, and Stiles never stopped worrying every time he went on shift that he wouldn't be making it home.

 

'I'm thinking we should have a real breakfast together. Pancakes, bacon...the works.'

 

Stiles' mouth started to water, because his dad's pancakes were good enough to be obscene. Back when his mom was alive, Sunday breakfast was a family tradition, something they never missed. It was only afterward that his dad had started taking double shifts and drinking too much and looking at Stiles in a way that meant he was just as worried about Stiles disappearing as Stiles was freaked out about him dying.

 

'No, yeah, yeah, that'd be great! Scrambled eggs, too?' The pack was supposed to be doing training exercises then, but it wasn't like he was strictly _necessary_ for those, so he had no qualms about skipping. He stuffed in another mouthful of potato as his dad nodded.

 

'And I thought we could invite Derek.'

 

A lump of half chewed potato plopped onto Stiles' plate in a way that was probably really, really unattractive, due to his mouth falling open as his eyes popped wide. He hastily chewed and swallowed.

 

'Derek Hale?' His attempt at casualness failed when his voice rose and cracked on the 'Hale' like a choir boy just kicked in the balls. 'Why...why would we want to invite him?'

 

'Well,' his dad wiped his mouth on a napkin and took a sip from the jack and coke at his elbow. 'Since he's been climbing in and out of your window every night for the last three weeks, I thought he might enjoy using the front door for once. Also, why is he the only one braving the drug store to buy condoms? Man up and do your part.'

 

'I... _what_ ...no...ridiculous...Derek  _Hale_ ...' His dad forked another piece of steak into his mouth as he waited impassively for Stiles' rambling protestations to wind down, and finally Stiles just slumped into the chair. They'd been like really,  _really_ careful. Hence the Derek and the drug store bit.

 

'How'd you even  _know_ ?'

 

'Son, I'm the sheriff. I know everything that happens in my jurisdiction.  _Especially_ things concerning you.' He pinned Stiles with his I-Am-The-Law-Fear-And-Tremble stare.

 

Stiles just grinned weakly around his glass of water, because nope, thank god, there were still some secrets in this town. Not that this wasn't bad enough...this was so, so bad enough, because hell or high water, Derek's ass was going to be sitting at the table come Sunday. Stiles had come into his inability to accept 'no' as an answer by way of his dad.

 

His father had opened another file folder when he continued offhandedly. 'And maybe while Derek is here, he and I can discuss if there's any way the Sheriff's department can make it easier on him while he tries to control that pack of his. That's a lot of responsibility for someone so young.'

 

Water spewed from Stiles' nose as he choked and made noises akin to a camel dying, and his dad smiled like the evil, evil man he was.

 

'Everything, Stiles. Everything.'

 

Oh god, he was so fucked.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a bit more of an angsty turn than I expected, so I feel like I should apologize for that. BUT awesome!Stilinskis will return in the final part. *Promise*

Stiles jiggled his leg as he listened to the phone ring, which in turn made the desk shake, so that at exactly the same time as Derek picked up, his stapler crashed down from its precarious position on the printer, bringing a stack of paper and can of pencils with it.

 

'Jesus, fuck, _fuck_ ,' he muttered, going down on hands and knees to try to pick them up while cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder. Derek's voice was gruff and abrupt, as usual.

 

'What do you need, Stiles?'

 

And really, after the conversation he just had, he was at the end of his rope, and so he snapped the first thing through his head. 'Really? You know Derek, you've been sucking my dick for the past three weeks, so you think we can move past the asshole greeting and maybe just say 'hey, how's it going?' or even 'How was your day?' Jesus, sometimes I don't even know why I put up with you.'

 

There was nothing but stiff silence on the other end, because of  _course_ Derek could care less, but Stiles still felt the need to apologize. 'Look, I'm sorry. Just...a little stressed out right now.' And also on about three times his normal dose of Adderall, but Derek didn't need to know that.

 

'Stiles,' Derek repeats. 'What do you need.'

 

Right. Best to get right down to business before he threw up. 'My dad says you have to come to breakfast Sunday.'

 

Stiles swore he could  _feel_ the chill through the phone. 'Why would he say that?'

 

Rip the bandaid off, all at once. 'Because he said you should use the front door instead of the window.'

 

Another beat of silence and then, ' _How_ ?'

 

'Look, I don't know, okay? He's got Jedi skills or something. But the point is you need to be at my house Sunday morning.'

 

'I can't. I have pack training.'

 

'No. No you do not.' Stiles' words picked up both speed and volume as he continued. 'Because I do everything... _everything_ your stupid pack needs, and you  _owe_ me. So, I don't care if I am just some booty call for you and we're not dating, your  _will_ be here no later than nine and you will sit and make nice and let my father pretend we're whatever he thinks we are. You got that?'

 

Again with the silence, but it felt different this time.. _tense_ . Well, whatever. Derek could just suck up his lack of communion with the rest of humanity and suffer through this with Stiles.

 

Derek's response was weirdly quiet and measured. 'Who said we weren't dating?'

 

'Um.. _you_ . When you said –' Stiles was pretty proud of his Derek imitations so he hammed it for all it's worth. '— _Stiles, you need to understand that if we do this, I'm never going to take you to the movies, or hold your hand at lacrosse games or...or whatever other teenage fantasy you have in your head_ , which everyone knows is code for I want to fuck you but not be seen in public with you, and I acknowledged my understanding when  _I_ said 'I don't care,' which again...code for apparently I have such low self esteem and lack of self respect that I'm willing to take whatever part I can get... is this ringing any bells and  _oh my god_ why are you still letting me keep talking?!' He was out of breath when he finally managed to put a lock on his runaway tongue.  _Way to let the crazy out, Stiles._

 

For a very, very long time the only sound he heard was Derek breathing and there was no way he could let the silence go on. 'Hey, how about you just pretend you didn't hear - '

 

'That wasn't what I meant.'

 

'I'm sorry, what?'

 

Derek made an aggravated noise. 'Nevermind. It's not important. When's breakfast?'

 

'Um...nine...like I  _said_ .'

 

'Fine. I'll be there.' The call disconnected – again,  _typical_ – and Stiles let the phone drop to the desk. 

 

'Piece of cake,' he muttered, and then flopped on the bed to contemplate ritual suicide. It was five full minutes before he remembered he hadn't even told Derek the best part. Whatever. That was going in a text message.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I lied - there will actually be four parts instead of three. Apologies.

**Stiles: BTW, 4got 2 tell U. Dad knows.**

 

**Derek: Obviously.**

 

**Stiles: Not that. About u guys getting hairy on the full moon.**

 

**Derek: WHAT?**

 

Stiles thought someone should invent emoticons for werewolves. Like...ones with bushy eyebrows, and pinched lips and angry jaws, because he could imagine the death glare Derek was giving his phone.

 

**Stiles: U know your glare doesn't work over the phone, right? Bet ur wishing u were here to slam me into some walls, huh?**

 

It took so long for Derek to text back that Stiles got distracted by the thought of wall presses, and pinned hands, and Derek's mouth, which is how things normally went these days. Finally his phone chirped.

 

**Derek: You have no idea. How does he know?**

 

Hadn't Stiles explained this before?

 

**Stiles: Told U. Jedi powers. Which mean I'm gonna be totally AWESOME when I get older.**

 

No reply, and not that Stiles was actually worried Derek might do something to his dad for damage control, but he felt compelled to send a follow up.

 

**Stiles: Don't worry. I think he wants to help. Totally should take him up on it. We could use it.**

 

**Derek: We're fine.**

 

Stiles snorted, because what they  _ were _ was desperately dog paddling to keep their heads above water, barely managing one crisis before the next one came at them. Not that Derek didn't do a good job, but his dad had a point. He sometimes forgot how  _ young _ Derek was.

 

**Stiles: I bet if u take him up on it, u won't look so constipated.**

 

**Derek: Did I mention how annoying you are?**

 

Stiles smirked and typed out a jaunty, **u know u love me** , and when there wasn't any response after ten minutes, he threw the phone back on the desk and opened Wikipedia. He didn't really expect Derek to show up that night, not after this, and so he refused to be disappointed when he was proven right. At 1AM, he finally shut the computer off and crawled into bed, pretending not to notice how long it took him to fall asleep.

 

He spent the next day playing World of Warcraft and avoiding his dad until he left for the late shift, and then cracked open his calculus book for that test he was woefully unprepared for. Three hours and a chewed pencil later, his window sill creaked. He spun around to see Derek stepping into the room.

 

With a duffel back swung over his shoulder.

 

Stiles tried not to look surprised that he'd showed up and instead raised a casual hand in greeting before gesturing to the bag. 'What's up?'

 

Derek let the duffel fall to the floor as he shrugged. 'I thought I'd stay.'

 

Stiles blinked several times. 'Um...what?'

 

'Your dad knows, and I'm supposed to be here for breakfast. There's no use leaving just to come back.' For the first time he looked remotely hesitant. 'If...that's okay.' He still managed to make the question not a question at all.

 

'Yeah...yeah sure. I mean it makes sense, right?' Stiles was still trying to wrap his mind around actually _sleeping_ with Derek, not to mention he really hadn't thought he would turn up until Sunday morning _anyway_. He chewed a little more on the pencil in his mouth, contemplating, and Derek gestured to his desk.

 

'What are you working on?'

 

'Ah...calculus...which unfortunately I really do have to do tonight, and then looking at this thing on different metal properties. I had an idea. Wanna see?' Derek dragged the chair from Stiles' wall over to the desk, and for the next two hours, Stiles did homework while Derek scrolled through the data he'd collected, stopping every once and a while to redirect Stiles' focus back to matrices which, to be fair, were nowhere _near_ as interesting as potential immunity to wolfsbane.

 

Somewhere in the middle of the second hour, Derek's hand drifted over to rest on the back of Stiles' neck, and his thumb began a steady up and down stroke over his pulse.

 

Stiles tried to concentrate on his calculus book, he really, really did, but he'd barely taken any Adderall at all that day, because Derek could smell it on him and always got an indecipherable tightness around his eyes when it was more than his normal dose; but that meant the only thing he could really focus on was the callus on Derek's thumb as it scratched across his skin.

 

Finally he gave up and threw his pencil down. 'Dude. There's no way I can finish _this_ if you keep doing _that_.'

 

It hit him suddenly that he hadn't heard any keys clacking in a while, and when he looked over at Derek, he was staring at him, his pupils blown wide. _Oh_.

 

'Good,' Derek growled, and then yanked Stiles out of his chair and into his lap. Stiles automatically adjusted to straddle him, his hands burrowing into his hair. It scared him sometimes, how easily he had figured out what to do, how to meet and match Derek, know exactly where he wanted Stiles and where Stiles wanted him. He shoved the thought down, which was pretty easy, seeing as how Derek's mouth was on his neck, right where his thumb had pressed.

 

Derek...Derek had a thing about using his teeth and tongue to do bad, bad things to Stiles' brainwaves, but he was always careful to never mark him, never leave a trace of anything that wouldn't fade before the morning – couldn't leave bruises when you didn't want anyone to know; Stiles knew that without asking. But this time he latched down with his teeth, and _sucked_.

 

'Oh my – uhng _Ahhh_ ,' was Stiles' very intelligible response, because forget about brainwaves, this was doing bad, bad things with the connection between Derek's mouth, Stiles' nerve receptors, and his dick. Derek just rotated Stiles' neck to the side and nosed in further, never letting up on the combination of _bite-suck-bite._

 

'What...' Stiles finally managed to say – _say_ , not _moan_ dammit – 'Why are you –?' Derek gave him one last nip before moving to the other side of his neck, killing the rest of Stiles' sentence.

 

'Because I want to,' His voice vibrated against Stiles' throat and then he nipped into that side, too, repeated the whole maneuver. Five minutes later they were less a whole lot of clothes, and Derek stood, mouth still attached to Stiles, and walked them over to the bed. He dumped Stiles on the bedspread and rummaged in his bag before producing a condom and lube.

 

Stiles snickered and Derek raised an eyebrow.

 

'Sorry, sorry. Just...my dad said I should man up and stop making you buy all the condoms.'

 

Derek snorted and knelt over him, folding Stiles leg at the knee and pulling it to the side, leaving him wide open and exposed beneath him. 'I agree. I'm tired of the church ladies' judgmental stares. You can do it next time.'

 

While it was a fair complaint - why anyone thought locating the pharmacy across from the church was a good idea was beyond Stiles – the only thing Stiles caught was the implication that there would _be_ a next time. He'd kind of assumed Derek would call the whole thing off after tomorrow, because it was becoming a whole mess of complicated – the kind Derek hadn't agreed to and obviously didn't want. Sometimes he really didn't get Derek, but okay...okay, Stiles wasn't going to complain.

 

Then Derek's slicked up finger was pressing inside, and that was the end of all rational thought until the next morning.


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles woke up before it was even properly dawn. His front was freezing and his back was burning up, and it took him a minute to realize it was because not only was Derek a cuddler, his front plastered to Stiles' back and an arm and a leg slung over him, but he was also a _cover hog_. Stiles reached back and tugged fruitlessly at the blanket wrapped over, under, and all around Derek.

  
  


He finally resorted to elbowing Derek in the stomach, and felt his body tense as he woke up. He expected Derek to roll away on his back or at least shift to put some space between them, but instead Derek chuffed as he practically nuzzled his face into the back of Stiles' neck and rolled his hips against him.  _Hello, morning wood_ .

  
  


'Why are you awake?' he mumbled, continuing to rock lazily into Stiles.

  
  


Stiles would not be deterred. Okay....maybe a little deterred...especially when the arm around his chest slid down to more southern regions. But he still managed a manly protest.

  
  


'Because you stole the blanket, you asshat, and I'm freezing!' He tugged on his one lone corner of the comforter again, with just as unsuccessful results, and then Derek's hand slipped beneath his pajama pants. 

  
  


'I'll do a better job warming you up,' he said, which was  _such_ a bad line, but Stiles wasn't complaining; everything felt sleepy and slow and comfortable, and Derek didn't hurry or flip him to his stomach, just languidly pulled his pants down and lifted Stiles' leg back over his hip so that Derek could push his way inside. Derek bit his shoulders, his spine, all the while keeping up that slow, slow thrust. 

  
  


In contrast to the pace Derek had set, when Stiles came, it was like freight trains, and he clawed frantically at the sheets as he curled in on himself at the intensity. There was a slight sting on the back of his neck and he had the feeling Derek had left another hickey; he was sure of it when he felt Derek latch down hard on his nape, as he stiffened with his own orgasm.

  
  


'Better?' Derek asked hazily, his voice still sounding somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, while Stiles knew he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep at all.

  
  


'Yep. Now I'm warm  _and_ sticky  _and_ sweaty. Not complaining, just saying. You can go back to sleep; I'm gonna take a shower before dad wakes up - pretty sure this isn't something he should see.' Knowing what Stiles was up to was one thing; he didn't want to press his luck by shoving it in his dad's face.

  
  


Derek made another unintelligible sound, which Stiles took for agreement, before he burrowed back under the covers, and Stiles slipped from the bed and out the door. He took longer in the shower than he should have, standing under the spray and stressing about what was going to happen next. Breakfast was a big enough worry, but now Derek was acting weird, too, and Stiles didn't know how to categorize it all. He thought longingly of the bottle of Adderall in the medicine cabinet, as his mind raced down six hundred different paths, each ending worse than the last. Derek Glare vs. Less Freaked Out Stiles did war for several seconds, but in the end, he finally got out of the shower and pulled the bottle from the medicine cabinet. Derek would be gone before it dissolved enough for him to smell it on him anyway.

  
  


When he closed the mirror back he did a double take at his image. Holy hell, he looked  _mauled_ . Dark, dark red marks marred either side of his neck, and by twisting around in something vaguely pretzel shaped, he could see a similar blooming on the back of his neck. He was going to have to invest in turtlenecks, because nobody was going to believe these were anything but what they were, and he was planning a long, yelling sort of speech at Derek, about not making it harder for him to hide this whole thing than it already was, when he wrapped a towel around his waist and opened the door – 

  
  


– Just in time to see his dad come up the stairs, at the same time Derek stepped into the hall, shirtless and carrying a change of clothes. His father paused and looked between the two of them, his eyes narrowing when he saw Stiles' neck.

  
  


'Hey there, Dad, father, padre, daddy-O. What's...what's up?' He grinned winningly and leaned against the door frame, taking a moment to appreciate the fact that Derek looked even more uncomfortable than Stiles felt, something a little akin to a deer caught in the headlights.

  
  


'Stiles.' His father gave him a look that promised They Would Talk About This Later before inclining his head in Derek's direction.

  
  


'Derek. It's good to see you not in handcuffs.'

  
  


'It's good not to be in them, sir.'

  
  


Stiles did a double take, because had Derek actually just ' _sir'd_ ' his father? Stiles was pretty sure he hadn't imagined that, not if the amused look on his dad's face was any indication. He thought his dad was having far, far too much fun torturing him, but Derek hadn't cracked a smile when he continued.

  
  


'Stiles tells me you wanted to talk about the pack –'

  
  


The sheriff interrupted Derek with a dismissive wave of his hand. 'That can wait until after breakfast. I was coming to wake Stiles up, but I can see you boys have already taken care of that. I'm going to start the pancakes. Come down when everyone is...dressed.' Another not-quite-glare at Stiles and then his dad headed back the way he'd come.

  
  


'Oh, god,' Stiles slumped against the door. 'He's going to kill me.'

  
  


* * * * * * * 

Half an hour later, Stiles was seated next to Derek at the table, his dad opposite them. Even his impending doom couldn't stop Stiles from putting heaping piles of pancakes, bacon and eggs on his plate and poking Derek until he did the same. If he was going to die, he was going to do it well fed.

  
  


There was no talking at first, because everyone was too busy eating – yeah, his dad's breakfasts were  _that_ good – but the sheriff finally broke the silence, addressing Derek sincerely.

  
  


‘I just want to say again how sorry I am for what happened with your family, and your uncle. I don’t know if you were aware I knew your parents; I think they would be proud of you.’

  
  


Stiles just stared as Derek said quietly, ‘Thank you.’

  
  


‘I had to go through Kate Argent’s things for the evidence locker.’ His dad had his eyes locked on Derek’s face. ‘She was a very…disturbed…woman. A lot of secrets.’

  
  


And then Stiles wasn’t even _at_ the table anymore, or may as well not be, for the amount of attention he was being given. Derek’s face – it went completely blank and _white_ , and Stiles didn’t need to be a werewolf to see the quick intakes of breath as his fingers curled deep into his thigh. What the hell?

  
  


Stiles reached out, underneath the ledge of the table, and put his hand over Derek’s, and darted a look at his dad, just in time to catch him giving Derek a nearly imperceptible head shake, that Stiles never would have seen if he hadn’t been looking. Either that, or Stiles’ hand, or some combination of the two worked, and the tension leached out of Derek’s body, but Stiles made careful note. He had missed something, something his dad and Derek knew; something about crazy Aunt Kate.

  
  


Derek said calmly, ‘Some things should stay secret.’

  
  


The sheriff inclined his head in capitulation. ‘And some can royally screw things up if they aren’t shared.’ And just when Stiles was convinced the two of them were speaking in a foreign language no one had bothered to teach him, his dad smiled and waved his fork between the two of them, completely shifting the topic.

  
  


‘So, tell me. How’d you two get together?’

  
  


Stiles tried it out in his head. _Well you see, dad, Derek used to get pissed and slam me into walls, and then one time he slammed me into the wall when he wasn’t pissed, and well, you know._ Yeah, no, pretty sure that wasn’t gonna fly.

  
  


Fortunately, Stiles was a prepared sort of guy, and had a nice cover story. One he'd really meant to share with Derek, but that was before he sucked his brain out of his dick last night. Derek was quick on the uptake, though, so it shouldn't be a problem. Stiles opened his mouth, but Derek beat him to it.

 

'He was there when I needed someone, even when I was being a jerk and even when I didn't think I deserved help. I'd be an idiot to let someone like that go, and I'm not an idiot.

 

 _Holy shit_ , Derek was  _good_ . Way better than Stiles' story, plus he sounded totally sincere. Stiles was gonna have to do something nice for him after this, like maybe a thank you blow job. Except it probably wasn't a good idea to be thinking about blow jobs, and being on his knees for Derek, while he was trying to talk to his dad. 

 

Derek looked at him with a raised eyebrow, and Stiles didn't even want to think about what sort of scents were wafting off him – except, of course, he kind of did, because Derek  _really_ liked how he smelled, and it kind of turned Stiles on when he'd tell him about it, usually in a rumbling, strained kind of voice while he fucked into him. Oh yeah, that...that was nice - 

 

'What about you, Stiles?' His dad stared at him expectantly, and Stiles mentally snapped back and reached for his story, except his brain was too full of Derek-sex, so instead of what he meant to say, something way too close to truth popped out.

 

'I feel safe with him.'

 

Both Derek and his dad blinked – not that Stiles could blame them – and his dad made a 'hmm' noise, before –  _thank god_ – redirecting the conversation to less threatening avenues. Was Derek readjusting to life in Beacon Hills? Would he sell the Hale place and move into town? What did he do for fun? None of it required much input from Stiles, and so he happily spent the next ten minutes shoving pancakes and bacon and orange juice into his mouth, in a disgusting display of growing teenager.

 

True to his word, his dad didn't mention the werewolf thing, at least not until he had lulled Stiles into a false sense of security, into a belief that the breakfast was going to go smoothly and that when it was over he could escape to his room to die in peace. He should have known better.

 

It was in between Stiles putting jam on a piece of toast and bringing it to his mouth that his dad launched his next volley in the  _make my son choke to death on his food_ campaign, even though he was addressing Derek and not Stiles.

 

'I've been researching your kind, you know.' Derek's eyebrows went up and Stiles' dad chuckled. 'You don't think Stiles' propensities come from nowhere, do you? We pulled together some pretty incredible science projects when he was in elementary, didn't we, son?'

 

Indeed they had.

 

'I play a little one on one with Chris Argent at the gym twice a week. Did I ever mention that to you, Stiles? Hell of a ball player – games probably take care of my cardio for the _month._ Anyway, he's amazingly talkative once he realized we have something in common.'

 

Holy mother of fuck.

 

The sheriff looked at Derek, every trace of humor disappearing from his face, and said abruptly,

 

'You've marked my son.'

 

Stiles barely kept his hands from flying to his neck. They were hidden underneath his collar, but he knew his dad had seen the hickeys that morning. He just didn't think he'd be mean enough to actually bring it up in front of Derek.

 

' _Dad!_ ' Stiles wailed, but neither Derek nor his father were paying him any attention as Derek returned his dad's stare just as seriously.

 

'I wanted to make sure there were no....misunderstandings...as to my intentions.'

 

'Are you sure I'm the one you need to explain that to?' Stiles had apparently gone back to being invisible at the same time Derek and his dad had gone back to secret code speak.

 

'I'm working on it.'

 

His dad made that humming noise again and picked up a slice of bacon, still not breaking eye contact with Derek. He chewed a bite and swallowed before shooting his next bullet.

 

'Are you ashamed it's my son?'

 

Oh god...Stiles...Stiles was going to _die_. He worked at making his mouth function through the sudden absence of spit, but he wasn't fast enough.

 

'No.' Derek had his blank face on, and Stiles could practically feel the tension building in him. He aimed a kick at his dad's leg underneath the table, but even though he connected pretty solidly, his dad didn't even flinch.

 

'You're never with him in public. You never show at things that are important to him. What should I think? What's he supposed to think?'

 

' _Dad_ ,' Stiles hissed this time, but his father and Derek were locked in some kind of war that apparently didn't allow Stiles to be a player, because, again, no one even looked at him as Derek answered, his words slow and careful.

 

'I'm not...good at those things. I don't know how to be good at those things. And he's so young. If he changes his mind, it would be easier on him –'

 

'You know he's not going to do that, though. You might be afraid of it, but you know it's not going to happen. Look how long he waited on the Martin girl, and that was just a _crush_. You, though, he lo--

 

Stiles shot to his feet and slammed his hands hard enough on the table that the pitcher of orange juice wobbled at the edge, fell off and shattered on the floor.

 

' _Stop!_ Just stop it!' He had been careful, so, so careful to keep that shit hidden from Derek, but of  _course_ his dad would figure it out, because his dad knew him better than anyone. And now he was totally exposing him, and he was only doing it because he actually thought –

 

'Just quit!' he yelled again. 'I'm sorry...look, I'm sorry, okay. I shouldn't have done this –'

 

'Stiles –' Derek's voice was quiet and intent beside him, but Stiles ignored him.

 

'I shouldn't have done this. It's not like that, Dad, okay? It's just...it's not. And I shouldn't have let you think –'

 

' _Stiles -_ '

 

'Shut up! I'm sorry, okay? I just knew...I knew you'd be  _disappointed,_ and I probably disappoint you all the time, but this was stupid. It's not...Derek doesn't...it's not  _like_ that, and –'

 

'Stiles!' Derek jerked him back to his seat and slapped his hand over his mouth. Holy hell, Derek looked  _furious_ , and his eyes were doing that alpha red thing.

 

'How in the hell can you be so smart about everything else, but such a goddamn  _idiot_ about this.'

 

Stiles wanted to tell him it wasn't wise to curse around his dad, but, well, mouth covered.

 

'In what reality would you think I'd get involved with a  _seventeen_ year old if I didn't intend for it to be permanent?'

 

Stiles gaped under the hand over his mouth; not just because of the word 'permanent,' but the way Derek had spit out 'seventeen' as some kind of curse word. It's not like Stiles wasn't privy to the fact Derek was a few years older than him, and yeah, it sounded kind of weird right now since his age started with 'twenty' and Stiles' ended in 'teen', but Derek made it sound like he was forty and Stiles was twelve.

 

A throat clearing reminded Stiles that they weren't alone. Derek dropped the hand from his mouth at the same time Stiles' dad pushed away from the table and stood. He nodded to both of them.

 

'Well, boys, I've got some paperwork I need to get to, so I'll leave you two to finish eating. Derek, when you're done, come see me. I may have never dealt with werewolves, but I do have a lot of experience with teenagers. I'll share my secrets to success.' When he reached the doorway to the living room, he turned around and looked back at Derek.

 

'You need to tell him.' Then Stiles and Derek were all alone, with a table full of food, a floor covered in juice, and a big fat elephant in the room

 

The silence was smothering. Stiles didn't know how to break it, because he was kind of sort of positive Derek had just pretty much admitted he had Serious, Real, Grown Up Feelings for Stiles, and for maybe the first time ever, Derek wasn't meeting his eyes, but instead darting them anywhere but at Stiles. He didn't like it, didn't like the idea that there might be something Derek was  _afraid_ to tell him, that there was something that could actually shake him. Derek was supposed to be the strong person here.

 

'Hey, it's okay.' He nudged Derek with his shoulder. 'Whatever it is, it's cool. I mean, hey, if I didn't stop talking to you after you slammed my head into a steering wheel, I doubt there's much that - 

 

'It would help...if you wouldn't look at me.' Derek was glaring determinedly at the refrigerator, steeling himself for what it was he was trying to say.

 

'Okay?' Stiles scooted his chair until his back was to Derek's side and waited. And waited. And –

 

Derek's hand reached out to wrap around his, and Stiles felt him breath heavily against him. His voice was low as he started, and it turned out Derek had been hiding just as many things from Stiles as Stiles had been hiding from him.

 

'I was fourteen the first time I met Kate Argent...'

 

* * * * * * * 

 

It's late in the evening. The kitchen floor is clean, they've had lunch and dinner, and Derek is still there, talking in low tones on the couch with his dad. Stiles is sprawled on the floor in front of them, working, once again, on his calculus. Every once in awhile, he interjects a comment, or takes a break by curling up underneath Derek's arm. Mainly, though, he just lets his dad handle the talking, because his dad is _awesome_ , and it only makes sense – Stiles had to get it from somewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading everybody! I'm so tickled people love Sheriff Stilinski as much as I do!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Nothing Gets By a Stilinski AKA Stiles Had to Get His Awesome From Somewhere [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/441304) by [paraka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paraka/pseuds/paraka)
  * [[art] Nothing Gets By a Stilinski AKA Stiles Had to Get His Awesome From Somewhere](https://archiveofourown.org/works/444940) by [growlery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/growlery/pseuds/growlery)




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